


So What's A Nice Place Like This Doing 'Round People Like Us?

by PosseMagnet



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Blow Jobs, Deepthroating, Dirty Talk, Face-Fucking, Hotel Sex, Mostly porn, Multi, NSFW, NSFW GIF, No Wincest but it's implied, Reader-Insert, Responsible Sam, Sassy Dean, Sassy Reader, Smut, Squirting, Threesome - F/M/M, Vaginal Sex, Voyeurism, Wee bit of plot, Wet & Messy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-21
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2019-03-07 11:54:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13434186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PosseMagnet/pseuds/PosseMagnet
Summary: Sam, Dean, and the reader are on a case that takes them to a fancy hotel. They find a swanky room that's too fancy to resist.





	So What's A Nice Place Like This Doing 'Round People Like Us?

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from We Know Where You Fucking Live by Marilyn Manson

After Sam’s lockpick clicks, and the door swings open, you can’t help the way your jaw drops. The three of you crowd into the swanky hotel room, Sam’s expression mirrors yours, while Dean gives a low, impressed whistle.

 

“Daaamn,” Dean breathes in a comedically high-pitched voice. “This shithead’s loaded. Hell, if I were a ghost, I’d haunt him too.”

 

You and Sam are already rifling through the businessman’s belongings, searching for the lock of hair he had saved from his dead mistress, whose ghost was currently haunting the man’s (soon-to-be ex) wife.

 

“Care to help us here, Dean?” you growl at the hunter, who is face first in the minibar, shoving tiny bottles of liquor and packaged snack foods into the pockets of his jacket. You turn away with an eyeroll.

 

Dean steps in behind you, and drags a hand slowly up your hip, pulling your fed skirt up your thighs. “Mmm, kitten,” he hums in your ear, “I’d be delighted to help you.” He pulls you back into him, and you gasp when his cock rubs against you, hard and insistent. “How about I help you out of these… boring… clothes…” each word is punctuated with a thrust of his hips against your ass, “And into… this soft… cozy… bed.”

 

He’s pulling you back toward the bed, which is made up with yards upon yards of fluffy white linens. You give a token amount of protest, “But, Deeaannn,” you whine, but you’re desperate to be fucked, panties already soaked through at the thought of the businessman returning to his room and catching the three of you.

 

Dean eases you down on the edge of the bed, crooning in your ear while he removes your clothing, “C’mon, kitten. It’d be a shame to waste this fluffy… cloud of a bed. This arrogant meathead is only going to use it to cheat on his wife. We might as well leave it with some _good_ memories, right?”

 

You acquiesce with a moan as Dean’s fingers drag over your soaked panties, pushing at your clit through the drenched fabric with a hushed curse. The hand that isn’t on you is frantically stripping the individual pieces of his own suit, dropping them to the floor in turn.

 

Sam’s voice comes from across the room, dripping with sarcasm, “By all means, you two. I’ll take care of this. ‘Capable hands,’ blah, blah, blah. You guys take it easy. You worked _so_ hard today.” You can practically _hear_ his eyeroll.

 

“Oh, Sammy,” Dean groans with his mouth against your breasts, “We’re sure your hands are more than capable. But you really should get a move on, our kitten is wet and desperate.”

 

Sam’s only response is an impatient grunt.

 

Meanwhile, Dean is dragging your skirt and panties down your legs with a groan as your thighs part before him like a dream. You shake off your suit coat and button-up, tossing both to the floor as Dean climbs over you, covering you with broad shoulders, enveloping you in strong arms.

 

You both know the clock is ticking, but you can’t resist pulling Dean down into a kiss. His soft lips are irresistible to you, and you never balk at the chance to kiss him.

 

A triumphant cry from Sam comes at the same time Dean’s cock brushes against your cunt, your cry of arousal nearly drowning out Sam’s solitary celebration.

 

“Not that anyone _cares_ ,” he declares, “But I found the hair.”

 

The light in the bathroom flicks on and you can hear the muffled sounds of Sam shaking salt over the hair, the squirt of lighter fluid, and the snick of Sam’s zippo follows.

 

Sam exits the bathroom, shutting the door behind him to contain the burnt hair odor.

 

“There’s our hero!” Dean exclaims. “What would we do without Sammy, Y/N?”

 

“Suffer endlessly, no dou—uh—uh, fuck,” You’re unable to continue your thought because Dean’s taken his cock in hand and is rubbing himself through your slick folds, pushing his leaky slit against your clit, making you both moan.

 

Sam interrupts, nearly naked after dropping his slacks, “I thought we were in a hurry?” His boxer briefs are the last to go, and he stands next to Dean, his cock hard and ready, leaking when his adept fingers squeeze its length.

 

You giggle at Sam’s comment. Then ask, “Where do you guys want me?”

 

Dean defers to Sam, after all, as he points out (with a tiny amount of big-brother sarcasm), Sam’s the big hero—doing all the work on this case. Never mind that Dean says it with a smirk, Sam shoos him away, making him scoot up the ridiculously soft bed and wait on his back for you.

 

Sam picks you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as he steals a kiss. You hold tight as he knees up onto the bed, shuffling his way toward Dean without taking his tongue out of your mouth.

 

He sets you gently down on Dean’s stomach, bending you back towards Dean’s chest, so the older Winchester can pinch at your nipples while Sam pushes two fingers into you with a groan.

 

“Fuck, Y/N,” Sam asks, “You really do hope we get caught, don’t you? You’re so fucking wet.”

 

“Please fuck me, Sam,” you beg with a whimper.

 

‘No, baby,” he says softly, “I’m going to let Dean do that. I’m going to watch though. I want to get my cock in this pretty little mouth.” He slips two fingers, warm from the heat of your pussy, and wet with your juices, into your mouth, dragging them over your tongue. He asks, “Is that okay?” even though he already knows the answer.

 

You seal your lips around his fingers, sucking and tonguing at them to clean them off. You hum in affirmation.

 

“Clocks a-tickin’, you two,” Dean says impatiently, mostly annoyed that no one is touching his dick at the moment.

 

“Simmer down, old man,” Sam grumbles.

 

Dean would have had an awesome comeback to his little brother’s sass if you hadn’t picked that moment to slide his fat, wet cock head into the searing heat of your tight cunt. In fact, the most he can muster as you slowly work him into you is a strangled groan.

 

 Sam is standing next to you, hand on his cock, and eyes on you. The way your breasts rebound as you start bouncing on his brother’s prick, the way Dean’s fat length disappears inside of you, it makes Sam’s mouth water. He shifts minutely, but enough to draw your attention. Your head falls back, and your mouth falls open, so Sam can feed his cock to you with a contented sigh of relief.

 

You lean back, bracing your hands on Dean’s chest so you can take more of Sam’s length into your mouth. Sam tries not to pump his hips too much, the bed is ridiculously soft, and he doesn’t want to fall on you, but the way you milk the head of his cock almost destroys his restraint.

Angling yourself back by bracing on Dean’s chest has the effect of driving Dean’s cock into your g-spot with every stroke. When he folds his legs, lifting and spreading them open, taking your legs with them, the contact is even more pronounced. He grips your hips tight, pulling you onto his dick.

 

With the continual contact to your g-spot, it’s only a couple minutes before your thighs start to tremble where they’re thrown over Dean’s bowlegs, and your pussy clenches around him as an orgasm shakes through you.

 

Dean’s head falls back with a strangled groan. He knows that this much stimulation on your g-spot is a surefire way to make you squirt, but he asks anyway, “Shit, sweetheart. You gonna squirt for me? You gonna soak my cock, and all these expensive white blankets?”

 

You hum an affirmative sound around Sam’s dick, popping off to plead, “Please, Dean, _fuck_.” Sam tangles his fingers in your hair, and pulls you closer, so he can feed his cock back into your mouth, and thrust the swollen head of his prick against your gag reflex. It gives way, softening slowly and Sam hungrily advances, taking full advantage of every bit of space your throat makes for him.

 

He growls a curse when your nose finally bumps against his abdomen. “Holy shit, Y/N,” his voice is a deep bass rumble that you feel all the way down to where he’s crowded into your throat, “Feels so fuckin’ good. Can I fuck your perfect mouth?” He says it like it’s a question, but his kaleidoscope eyes are greedy and dark, and clearly say _gimmietakemine_.

 

You blink up at him, slow and innocent. He swears again, quiet, covetous. Your lungs are starting to burn, and your eyes are watering, smearing tears and makeup down your cheeks. You’re about to tap Sam’s muscular thigh when he finally withdraws. He gives you the barest amount of time to drag a breath through your nose before he’s fucking back into the tight confines of your throat.

 

Dean is pressed against your back now. You don’t even remember when he sat up. His voice is soft, quiet, when he croons in your ear, “We’re running out of time, Y/N. He’s going to be back soon, any minute now. The hotel bar closed five minutes ago.”

 

The voyeur in you hopes he _does_ find you there, Sam and Dean inside of you, but the hunter in you knows it’s time to shag ass, or your night is going to end in handcuffs, and not in the sexy way.

 

Dean’s pornographic mouth knows just what buttons to push though.

 

“Come on, kitten. I know you’re close, so are Sam and I.” His hand slips down your sweat-slick abs, palm coming to rest just above your pubic bone with gentle, but insistent pressure, the tip of his middle finger flicks right over your clit, and the touch makes you arch your back. “That’s my good girl, Y/N. Come on, kitten. You can do it.”

 

Your throat flutters with your need to cry out at Dean’s touch, and the extra pressure around Sam’s dick is all it takes for his orgasm to overtake him. His cock swells, and bucks hard against your tongue as he comes down your throat with a growl. He draws himself out of your throat while he’s still spurting, hotly painting your tongue and lower lip with streaks of come. He jerks his spit-slick dick through the last few spasms, some lands over your chest and chin, but most of the rest lands on the white sheets, where it blends in, perfectly invisible.

 

As much as Sam would love to lick his come off your lips and chin, there’s no time for that now. He reluctantly dismounts the bed to start dressing himself, gathering Dean’s suit, and your suit, all while making sure the room is somewhat in order.

 

Dean’s finger presses into your clit, and you curse, the epithet is rough coming from your fucked-raw throat. Dean’s voice is back, “Yeah. That’s good, isn’t it? Time’s up though. Make a mess for me, kitten. Come for me. Now.”

 

Dean’s last word turns into a growl, because your orgasm overtakes you right on cue. Your pussy muscles clench, and the weight that had been building in the front wall of your cunt peaks, and turns warm and liquid as you squirt just like Dean knew you would. Hot wetness rushes out of you, soaking Dean’s hand and thighs and cock, and most certainly the swanky white bedding.

 

You feel boneless and a little incoherent when you feel heat flood you that isn’t your own, as Dean comes with a curse. He keeps fucking into you while he creams your pussy up good, milking his own jizz out of you with a filthy squelching sound that makes you groan and jerk in Dean’s arms.

 

“Jesus fuck, kitten,” Dean pants against your neck, “That was fucking amazing. We need to move though, or Sammy’s gonna spank us both when we get back to our room.”

 

Sam’s stopped what he was doing, your clothes fisted in one big hand, and Dean’s in the other. He watched you and Dean come with a slack jaw and a face full of awe. He pulls himself together quickly though, shooing you both off the bed and somehow dressing both you and Dean, as neither of you can manage in your collective stupor. Sam’s mumbling about taking care of children, and you giggle, which (as he helpfully points out) only serves to prove his point.

 

A handful of seconds later the room handle jiggles as someone outside the room tries to enter. The three of you fall silent as a unit. From the hallway you hear the inebriated slur of the room’s occupant. “Coulda su—suh--swore I put the—the—the thing right here,” he hiccups. The sound of the voice’s owner patting his pockets several times follows.

  
A woman’s voice is next, high and clear, “Baby, did you leave it at the bar?”

 

The voices continue, but they move in the direction of the elevator. All three of you wait in silence until the voices board the elevator, and the ding sounds to signify they’re on their way down.

 

“Let’s go,” Sam orders, voice cautiously low. He opens the door, herding you and Dean into the hallway while he does one last visual sweep to assure that nothing incriminating has been left behind.

 

You hit the down button for the elevator, and the three of you wait for it to make several stops on the way down and the way back up. It’s empty when the doors open and you three crowd inside. It’s only after the doors close that you ask, “What the fuck? Why didn’t he come in and bust us?”

 

Dean grins wide, deep dimples appearing through his stubble, “Maybe because I’ve got this,” he pulls something from the inside pocket of his suit jacket, a chorus of tinkles from the tiny liquor bottles that fill his pockets accompanies the movement. Pinched between his middle and index fingers is a room key. “I swiped it from him in the bar earlier. The dipshit was so drunk I probably could’ve just asked him for it. I wanted to be safe, just in case we needed a few extra minutes,” he winks conspiratorially.

 

Sam’s jaw clenches, and he barks, “Dean! What the fuck? If you had that, why’d I need to pick the lock?”

 

Dean elbows his little brother in the ribs and bats his beautiful grassy green eyes innocently, “Aww, come on Sammy. Gimmie a break. You know Y/N and I get all tingly when you take charge like that.”

 

You burst out laughing, but Sam still looks like a wet housecat all the way down to the lobby.

 

On your way out of the hotel you see the room’s occupant explaining to the front desk attendant why he needs a new room key. The woman next to him is obviously the kind that gets paid by the hour. She looks like she’s beginning to seriously question her life choices right about now.

 

Outside, on the sidewalk in front of the hotel you stop.

 

“What’s wrong, Y/N?” Dean asks.

 

“Do either of you have my panties?” you inquire.

 

Neither Dean nor Sam has them, or even remembers the last time they saw them. You have no other choice but to leave without them. You shrug it off, figuring they were probably a sodden mess anyway.

 

\---------------------------------------------------

 

Housekeeping finds your panties wadded up under the bed the next morning.


End file.
